Grubby at PokerWorks

The Harrah’s “Bright Lights, Big City” slot tournament pulled in 500 players from around the country with a $20,000 prize pool and $5000 top prize.

This was ostensibly the reason for my Las Vegas trip, and I don’t know any other place of employment that would accept “slot tournament” as a valid reason to take time off from work.

Checking in via Diamond Registration was a breeze. Of all the casinos — Strip, off-Strip, downtown — my favorite is Harrah’s because of how close the parking garage is to registration, hotel elevators, 24-hour Starbucks, and the Diamond Lounge.

Without asking, they placed me in room 2501, the closest room to the elevator. With hotel hallways being a block long, elevator proximity is important.

My view was nice:

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Made nicer by a view of the pool:

The couch was comfortable and no coins were found beneath the cushions. While checking, I found some Cheerios and discovered the couch was a sofabed.

The tournament registration line was long, divided into A-L and M-Z. A-L was 20-people deep; M-Z was empty. Seven Stars members could jump to the front of the line. I would never attempt chasing Seven Stars (100,000 tier points/$500,000 playthrough in one year), but Harrah’s always dangles the carrot of the next level up to tempt you.

They gave me a $25 food voucher good at any of the Harrah’s-owned restaurants (which doesn’t include Starbucks) and a tournament badge that showed my times were 10 a.m. on Wednesday and Thursday. Not bad, and being in the hotel I could just roll out of bed, play my session, then head back to bed. A worse time would be in the afternoon, because I’d feel confined to the hotel until then (which of course is their goal).

It was J’s last day in Vegas, and we headed to Sushi & Sake at Green Valley Ranch for the all-you-can-eat, made-to-order sushi from 5 p.m. to 7 p.m., Sunday through Thursday for $32.99.

The previous night we also took in the sushi with a goal to surpass $300.

“For Sparta,” I toasted in our girly Pacific Breeze martinis before beginning to check off items.

Previous visits had us stuffed at the $250 mark, but we were determined to break our record. We had the same server who remembered J from a year ago, and she didn’t even groan when she saw us. We had tipped well then and had asked her if anyone else had eaten as much as we did. She said no. That was the $250 meal, and little did she know we’d be pushing for $50 more. Inflation and all.

Out of the gate, six orders of ecstasy (seared tuna) at about $18 a pop gave us a running start. It was the most expensive item on the menu, and the most delicious.

We easily reached $300, with a couple more orders to put us at $321 because I’d wanted our buy-in to be 5 percent each of the total value of the meal.

Feeling a bit guilty for the constant attentiveness by our server who made over a dozen trips serving us dishes, I ordered dessert which wasn’t part of the all-you-can-eat.

From a bet I won last year in a last-longer tournament, J paid. J says he comes to Vegas for two reasons: because of me and because of this sushi. If he was paying for dinner, he wouldn’t have minded it being on sushi.

He tipped the server well and separately tipped the three sushi chefs that we had working the entire two hours we were there (they limit you to a one-hour timeframe, but have never enforced it).

Now, the next day, we were back. This time with three new sushi chefs and a new server. We didn’t keep a running tally, just eating what we enjoyed, and even going for the tempura which isn’t a good idea when jockeying for a personal all-you-can-eat record.

Completely stuffed, we headed to Rio and saw some strange UFOs that turned out to be a formation of tour helicopters:

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After grabbing drinks and dessert at the Diamond Lounge (though more comfortable with a view of the swimming pool, Rio’s free food isn’t as good as the other Diamond Lounges), we rode the elevator to the top floor and relaxed in perfect outdoor weather at the VooDoo Lounge, which offers the best view of Las Vegas:

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J was wearing the same shorts from Cheetah’s, and the VooDoo entry blacklight revealed the splotches that stripper Alyssa had left. To embarrass him, I called attention to his shorts to a group of girls, and I laughed as he tried covering it up as if he had no pants on.

I thought Little Darlin’s (my favorite all-nude strip club in Vegas) would be a nice sendoff before his flight, but we were exhausted and hit Bellagio instead.

Walking to the poker room, I saw Linda dealing at the first table by the rail. Watched her deal a few hands before her down, then waved and hugged her before she moved to her next table. As I walked away, I heard her say, “That was grubby,” and wondered who she was talking to.

Lost on some Konami slots and won on Monopoly Big Event, then sat with J at a cheap blackjack table with the dreaded constant automatic shuffler that I first noticed years ago at Bellagio.

I got some flack for hitting my 2 against a dealer’s 3 and busting, but I always play basic strategy. Two guys to our left were hitting hands like 14 and 16 against the dealer’s 5.

The cocktail waitress took my order of a strawberry coloda. She laughed, asking if I meant a strawberry daiquiri. After she left, I caught up with her to correct my order to a strawberry julius, but she knew what I meant.

When it came, it was the best damn strawberry julius that only Bellagio knows how to make, complete with a big honkin’ strawberry wedged into the side of the glass.

Our final hands at the table were up to the same guy who thought about hitting his 14 against the dealer’s 6, which he did and busted, causing the dealer to not bust and draw to 21. Getting beat in poker so many times has hardened me to blackjack beats like this, and players who play against basic strategy will help as much as hurt anyway.

But J flipped out, almost as bad as the time when he hit a poker beat and threw his card protector and water bottle across the room and was warned by the floor.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” he said, and stormed off, losing $40. I was still up $15 and sipped some heavenly strawberry julius before apologizing for his behavior, saying it was his last day in Vegas and we had to catch a flight.

Whenever losing in gambling, I always think that money could’ve gone to a strip club. So maybe Little Darlin’s would’ve been a better idea.

I dropped J off at the airport for his redeye flight, then headed back to Harrah’s intending to get my first good night’s sleep.

Instead, I went to Westin to cash in a $30 freeplay and lost that plus $120 in the new slot Cherry Bomb, which doesn’t have reels but lets the player pick five random symbols to form a winning combination. If one of those symbols is the flame character, a random number of additional symbols is revealed for more winning combinations. It’s a fun game and I lasted a good hour before busting.

Switched to both Star Wars slots and won playing max and hitting bonuses, then dumped those winnings and more making a rotation around all the Millioniser slots betting max for the chance at winning $1 million.

I left when my wallet was empty, down $520.

Made it to Harrah’s, and still had the gambling bug. Plus Mr. Cashman was calling. Headed to my third of what would be five total trips to the ATM ($5.99 charge at Harrah’s). Never hit anything on Cashman but recovered some on the Wheel of Fortune Super Spin (which is now a nickel denomination) and Monopoly Big Event. I was left with $120 after playing/earning 1600 points ($8000 playthrough) when I finally threw in the towel and headed upstairs armed with Starbucks fuel.

It was 9:15 a.m., and I figured I’d relax in the room before the tournament at 10 a.m.

The last thing I remember was enjoying a cheese danish and venti soy chai tea latte, closing my eyes for just a second, and awaking with unchewed danish in my mouth and the clock radio reading 11 a.m.

Damn slots.Â

More later…

This entry was posted on Thursday, April 19th, 2007 at 4:02 am and is filed under Uncategorized.